


It Could Be Everything

by ruthie13



Category: Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Multi, im not tagging everyone from tmi because this is julian centric but they all make an appearance, the lightwood family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1766719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruthie13/pseuds/ruthie13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They split them up.<br/>Of all the worst case scenarios Julian had thought of, he never actually believed this would happen."</p><p>After the Dark War, the Blackthorn siblings are split up and sent to various institutes around the world. Julian ends up in New York. Life goes on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Post COHF. Julian Centric. I haven't decided how many chapters there are going to be yet. Title taken from a Tom Hiddleston quote.
> 
> If you read, leave a comment. Please and thanks.

They split them up.

Of all the worst case scenarios Julian had thought of, he never actually believed this would happen.

They wait until Helen leaves ( _so she can't intervene, so no one can intervene, no one is going to save them, they’re all alone and THEY’RE SPLITTING THEM UP_ ) and then they call an emergency meeting, to figure out what to do with the rest of them. The Consul comes up with some dumb sounding excuse about not wanting to burden Uncle Arthur with so many children, and there is a chorus of “Ayes”( _the same ayes that abandoned the search for Mark_ )( _the same ayes that exiled Helen_ ) and it’s done.

“One of you will stay here in Idris,” Robert Lightwood explains. “One of you will go back to Los Angeles with Arthur. Four other institutes will step up to take in the rest of you.” The Institute heads from Madrid, Toronto, and Taipei all stand. After a moment Maryse Lightwood, from New York, stands also. The room murmurs, but Julian doesn’t care why. There’s a weight sitting on his heart, making it hard to care about anything. He thought he’d be crying, or worrying, or doing anything other than sitting by uselessly while his family fell apart, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Emma Carstairs will remain in Idris.” Jia Penhallow says, no, _demands_. There is no discussion. She’s taken her prize and Julian can’t do anything but watch the first piece of his life fall away. Then Jia turns her attention to the first row.

“Julian. Do you have any preferences as to where your siblings go?” She’s throwing him a bone, he knows. He might’ve felt thankful, if he could feel at the moment. And he knows he could make it a scene, stand up and tell her that where they are _going_ is home, together. But then he wouldn’t have a say at all.

“Tavvy goes back to L.A with Uncle Arthur.” He begins, slowly. Tavvy deserves a real family to grow up with, and he doesn’t know if Arthur will be that, but he really doesn’t know if the other institutes will be that. Also, it’s _home_. It’s where they all grew up. Maybe it’s a stupid thought, but Julian can’t stand the idea of Tavvy growing up without a Californian accent. Without speaking English, potentially. He looks to his siblings for help.

“I want to go with the one who speaks English.” Drusilla leans across and whispers to him. The one without the accent, she means.

“Dru will go to Toronto.” He repeats to the Clave. Then he looks at the twins. They have their heads down, bodies curved towards each other, as if deep in nonverbal conversation. The thought of splitting them up worries him. The thought of sending Ty out on his own to a foreign country terrifies him. He remembers what Helen told him, about how Ty doesn’t see the world like everybody else, how sometimes, for him, it isn’t as easy to navigate. His stomach lurches.

“Ty,” he says in a low voice, “you can go to New York-”

“I’ll go to Taiwan.” Ty snaps back, his voice loud enough for the Clave. Julian recoils in confusion.

“And I’ll go to Spain.” Livvy adds, right behind him. They both seem sure of their decision, as if they hadn’t just learned of their situation five minutes ago. Julian feels helpless at their independence, but can’t protest.

“And you will go to New York, then?” Jia asks him.

“Yes.”

The Consul nods at his ‘decision’, and, satisfied with everyones plans, adjourns the meeting. Julian is frozen in his seat. New York. He knows the Lightwoods are sitting rows behind him, but he can’t bring himself to turn around and search for them. He stays where he is until the hall clears out, until it is only Emma, half a bench away, miles and miles of unsaid words between them.

\- - 

Most of the out of town Clave members are set to leave that night. Nobody has much to say as they all pack together. Julian helps Drusilla pack her bag, while Livvy carefully folds her and Ty’s clothing and places them in separate bags, probably for the first time. Ty is particular about who he lets touch his stuff. Right now, he has a second suitcase open, where he is tucking away all the trinkets he has picked up during their stay at the Penhallows.

“We’re Blackthorns.” Julian reminds himself out loud, holding Tavvy in his lap. “Distance isn’t going to change that. Mark,and Helen- we’re all still family.” He keeps speaking mindless comfort, and he doesn’t know if anyone is listening to him but the lull of his own voice helps keep the darker thoughts at bay.

They walk to the edge of Alicante, where portals are being opened left and right, and where shadowhunters from all over the world are speaking their native language, trying to get home. It’s like a magical airport. Julian knows what an airport looks like; he flew to New York once, in a regular old plane.

Ty bids him a formal farewell when it’s time for them to go their separate ways.

“It’s been nice being brothers with you.” He says, hand extended.

“We’re still brothers!” Julian protests, and reaches out for an embrace. Ty smoothly dodges Julian’s attempt at a hug, and gives his other siblings a similar treatment, before slinking away.

“Wait, Ty-” There is so much Julian has to say, but Tiberius is already gone.

“Oh, Jules.” Livvy says from his shoulder. She watches her twin’s retreating form with an expression he can’t place. “You’ve been such a good brother.” Her voice is sad, wistful, maybe. She lets him hug her, and then she is gone also.

Dru is in tears by now and Julian is so _tired_ of saying goodbye. He crouches down to her level to hug her, and thinks that her crying reminds him of Helen, who also cried easily. Maybe it’s a family thing. As she leaves, he realizes he doesn’t know if the twins even said goodbye to her. Well, he’d already failed at keeping their family together, what did it matter now, he thinks bitterly, the crush of people and foreign voices making him annoyed. He wishes Emma was there with him, but she had adamantly refused to come along to see them off. A dick move on her part, he had thought, but had been too crabby to argue.

Saying goodbye to Tavvy and Uncle Arthur is maybe the worst. Julian can’t bring himself to look is Uncle in the eyes.

“Not like we’re never going to see each other again,” Arthur says, awkwardly. “You’ll visit, come around for Christmas, or something.” Julian knows he won’t. He’s not an idiot, he knows what happens to institute wards. They don’t get to leave. Ever. It’s training this, and training that, and _we’re your real family now._

“Don’t let him forget,” Julian says, ignoring his Uncle, “Octavian, don’t let him forget us. Show him pictures and stuff, of Emma too, and my parents.”

“Alright, ok then, you be good now.” Arthur says, uncomfortable at Julians serious tone, casually starting to walk backwards. Octavian’s lifts his head from Arthur's shoulders, his eyes tracking Julian.

“I-ok.” Julian has a hand half raised, watching them leave, and wondering if his youngest brother will grow up with memories of their family at all. He wonders if Tavvy will have any memories of this day. If this, a young boy with messy hair and sad eyes and a half raised hand will stay with him. If nothing else, this.  

He doesn’t think so. Maybe it’s a mercy in the end, because Julian knows he will never forget the look on Tavvy’s face, walking away from him, and the others, Helen’s tears, and Emma’s blood, his father on his knees-

No. Maybe it’s better not to remember after all.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read, leave a comment. Please and thanks.

Julian walks back to the Penhallow's house alone. He knows Emma will be there, and he doesn’t really want to see her, but he doesn’t have anywhere else to go. He goes upstairs, hoping to creep into his own room without her noticing, only to find her sprawled out on his bed. She jerks up when she hears the door, and he sees a flash of anger and embarrassment at getting caught flash on her face.

“Sorry,” she says. “I was just….I’ll leave.” Her hand floats lazily above her head for a moment, and then she moves to sit up on the bed. Julian blocks the door.

“Wait.” Looking at Emma was always like looking into a mirror, like seeing himself reflected back, stronger and angrier, more ferocious but also more beautiful. Right now he could see what they were both feeling on her face: failure, and anger, but mostly just a bone deep tiredness.

“I can’t believe you didn’t say goodbye!” He is surprised by his own outburst when Emma stands. She flinches backwards.

“What the hell Jules!” She yells back, always on the offense. Her clothes and hair are rumpled like she’d been laying down for a long time. Rage leaps inside him.

“They’re just kids!” He continues yelling. “They don’t understand that you didn’t _feel_ like being there, all the know is that you didn’t care about them enough to be there! How fucking selfish are you Emma!”

“Why does it even matter, they’re not going to remember me in a few years!” She looks furious, like how dare he attack her like this.

“We’re family! Of course they’re going to remember you, we’re family!” Julian cannot believe Emma doesn’t understand this. They’re not going to _forget_ Emma. It isn’t possible.

“We’re not family!” Her voice is suddenly high, hysterical, more emotional than he’s ever heard it. “We’re just a bunch of orphans! You’re uncle was never going to take me in, we don’t matter to each other!”

“We were going to be _parabatai!”_ Julian practically screams. How dare she, how dare she-

 _“Well maybe I didn’t actually want that!”_ Emma screams back. There’s a moment of silence as they both realize how far Emma has gone.

It’s like a punch in the stomach, or a slap across the face. It’s like someone reaching down Julians throat and pulling out all the air from his lungs.

“You don’t...what?” He gasps. Emma is breathing hard, clenching her fists, teetering on the edge. The air seems to crackle with electricity, and he thinks for a moment she may tackle him, but is still surprised when she does. He hits the floor hard, Emma on top of him, fists flying. By now his training should be kicking in thoughtlessly, he should be fighting back, but it’s like there’s a block in his brain, something stopping him, something saying, _remember what happened the last time you fought without thinking_ … and so he lets Emma rain down her punches until she realizes that he isn’t stopping her.

She collapses against him, breathing hard. She is burning, and her skin against his is almost enough to set him on fire. The weight of her is comfortable, familiar, and he doesn’t want to lift his head and face the reminder that this isn’t just another day at the institute, so he just stares at the ceiling and breathes until his inhales match her exhales.

“Maybe it’s for the best.” Emma says finally. He feels the words bounce off her rib cage and onto his, but he still can’t understand what they mean.

“You mean, me leaving and you staying? How is that ‘for the best’?”

“I’ll be at the best institute in the world. I’ll learn how to fight here like nowhere else. And in New York-” she hesitates. “The Lightwoods have lost a child. They’ll be able to help you.”

“You can help me.” Julian mutters dejectedly. They’re both just grasping for excuses, reaching for the _it’s not you, it’s me_ beneath all the bullshit in their lives. Why though, Julian has no idea. Emma clearly knows things he doesn’t, big and dangerous things, potentially.

“No. I can’t. I can’t be distracted, I need to train.” She lifts herself up on her hands, and leans over him. Julian wants to do something childish, wants to spit in her face, or squirm away, but can’t help meet her eyes.

“Jules.” Emma says, and it’s like he doesn’t even _know_ her. He sees her leaving him and doesn’t know, doesn’t know, doesn’t know why. There is something else, hovering on the tip of her tongue, but she does not speak it. Instead she rolls off him, and he may or may not say goodbye and she may or may not reply and then he lets his feet carry him away.

– –

The next morning Julian ends up back at the edge of Alicante, where he said goodbye to his siblings the day before. All he has with him is a suitcase the Penhallow's gave him, filled only with an extra pair of clothes and his stele. He thinks he really has the sad orphan look down to a T.  

There’s a whole horde of people preparing to travel to New York along with Julian. There’s the Lightwoods, with their terribly intimidating appearances, Clary Something and Jace Whatever, who the Clave seem way too obsessed with, a few more shadowhunters he doesn’t recognize at all, and someone he’s pretty sure is a warlock.

Several members of the Clave, including Jia and Aline, are there to see them off. Emma isn’t. Julian is trying and failing not to care. It’s hard not to think about when he’s just standing there watching everybody laugh and talk as they mull around the portal being opened. These people are a family, he thinks. Family, the way institutes outside of Idris become, all different people, different backgrounds, thrown together into something unbreakable.

The warlock has the portal ready, and people are picking up their bags. Aline Penhallow comes up and hugs him, and as he hugs back, he realizes that, even though she hasn’t been around much the past few days, he’s begun to see her as something like family. There’s something familiar and comforting about her. Something like an older sister. He thinks about Aline, going off to Antarctica to be with Helen, and about Emma, not going to New York with him, not even showing up to say goodbye.

“You’ll be great.” Aline says gently. He wonders what Helen said to her before she left.

“Take care of my sister.” He says back, because no one else is going to say it, because someone should, because he is so, so jealous that Aline is is going to be with someone she loves.

Aline says, “I promise,” and kisses the top of his head. When she pulls back he can see the fire in her eyes and feels a sort of pleasure in knowing that she is just as mad as he is, that what has happened here will not be forgotten. She turns away to say goodbye to the older kids, and Julian picks up his suitcase. His suitcase, which is not really his suitcase, which is filled with things that aren’t really his, filled with things like the memories of parenting his siblings, and fighting with Emma. He makes a split second decision to leave it on the ground where he set it, before the adults sweep him forward.

The consul bids him good luck and farewell, and then Maryse Lightwood takes him by the arm and he follows her children through the portal.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest, I wasn't really planning on continuing this fic but a nice comment inspired me to put up this chapter that was just sitting in my drafts. Hope you enjoy!

The other side of the portal is grey and overcast, all damp grass and unfamiliar air. Jules didn’t realize how badly he’d been hoping for familiar Los Angeles and the smell of the ocean until it wasn’t there waiting for him. They’re in a backyard or something, next to a church- no next to an  _ institute _ . So this must be the New York Institute. It’s somewhat sad and ominous looking from where he stands, which is dumb because it probably looks identical to his family's, just minus the sand and the warm familiarity, which somehow makes all the difference in the world. 

One by one, people pop out of the portal behind him; straightening ruffled clothing, stretching, laughing, picking up luggage, and in groups, walking away. Julian counts one, two-  _ six _ teenagers as they pass him by. 

“Come,” Maryse says, “See your new home.”

He follows her through the intimidating doorway, through the wide foyer, and knows she’s leading him to the kitchen because, he realizes with an uncomfortable twist, this institute is laid out the same as the one back home. There’s an awful moment where he imagines his siblings pulling up to identical houses all across the world, as if they were each thrown into an alternate universe. Same house, same layout, different furniture and decorations and people and stories. 

“Children.” Maryse raises her voice slightly and the teenagers slowly reappear. There’s only four of them now; the two Lightwood children, Jace and Clary Fray. 

“You remember Julian Blackthorn, of course.” Maryse says smoothly. “As I’m sure you heard, he’s going to be staying with us for some time.” 

_ For some time _ Julian thinks. That’s all he is to them, a temporary guest. He’ll be eighteen in just six years, he supposes. That's not very long in the scheme of things. Just some time. 

“Julian, you remember Isabelle, Alexander, Jace, and Clary?” She gestures at her kids one by one. He nods. 

“Hi,” Isabelle says warmly. He’s known the Lightwood a long while, since he was born in fact. They would only see each other once a year or so, when they all ended up in Idris at the same time but Julian remembers playing with Max; they would take turns chasing after their older siblings and looking after Julian's younger siblings. Always playing one part the child, one part the adult. 

He wonders if he reminds Isabelle of her brother. 

Alec gives him a nod, Jace gives him a goofy two finger salute, and Clary reaches out to touch his shoulder.  

“I’m sorry about….everything.” She says awkwardly, pausing halfway through the sentence as if not sure where to start. Sorry about your parents? Your brother? Your sister? The rest of your siblings? 

Julian shifts from foot to foot, restless and agitated at the unwanted attention on what led to his current situation. “Yeah.” He says. Clary seems to understand he doesn’t want to follow that particular conversation thread and steps back with a nod. 

Maryse lays her hand on his shoulder again, simultaneously motherly and uncomfortable, making him want to itch the skin underneath. “Julian will be staying in the- guest room.” They all politely ignore the hiccup in her voice at the words ‘guest bedroom’ and Julian wonders what that's all about. “Isabelle, would you show him there?” 

“I can take your bag….” Isabelle starts to offer, trailing off when she realizes he doesn’t have one. They all look down at him now, Maryse frowning as if she really hadn’t realized until now that he’d walked out of the portal with only the clothes on his back. 

“Where’s your bag?” Maryse asks.

“I must have….forgot it.” Julian shrugs after a moment. 

“Okay.” Maryse says after a pause where Julian guesses everyone in the room wonders how one simply forgets their luggage when portal travelling. “Well, we can take you tomorrow to buy a new wardrobe, and whatever other amenities you need.” She pats his shoulder again, pushing him slightly so he stumbles towards Isabelle. It’s clearly a sign that this interaction is over. 

“See you around, man.” Jace says, taking Clary’s hand. She offers Julian a sad smile and wave before following Jace out of the room. Isabelle extends a hand to him that he ignores. And Alec just stands by and watches quietly as Julian follows Isabelle down the hall. 

Isabelle leads him into the guest bedroom, which is small and warm, if not a little bare. Unlike the rest of the haughty institute it’s decorated as if for a child; a brightly colored bedspread, a soft rug, a writing desk with a row of toy figurines lined up on it. It looks abandoned, clear that someone had lived there once, but perhaps not for a long time.

Oh. 

_ Oh _ . 

Of course- the realization hits Julian and settles uncomfortably in his stomach. An empty child's bedroom, a fine layer of dust over the pain that the Lightwoods clearly hadn’t confronted yet. Max. 

“This is-um- the guest room,” Isabelle says, awkwardly waving her hands around. “So- there might be some clothes in the dresser, but we can go tomorrow and get you your own stuff. And.. that's it really. I’ll call you down for dinner but you can just stay here until then?” She finishes, her voice tilting up as if asking him a question.  

“Ok.” Julian says. There doesn’t seem to be much else to say. A part of him wants to yell,  _ this isn’t the guest room, don’t you remember me, I played with Max, we were friends,  _ but instead he stays staring at the wall until he hears the door click shut behind him. 

The clock on the bedside table reads 4:15 in red block letters. The cheap electronic device feels weirdly out of place, but, Julian supposes, all institutes have that effect. As if time stopped here, 200 years ago, while the rest of the world moved around it.

4:15 means he probably has a good two hours to kill until dinner so he shrugs off his jacket and then goes about methodically picking apart the room. 

It’s a habit he picked up from travelling between Idris and L.A so frequently, the need to search a room, usually to make sure his older cousins hadn’t left any unpleasant surprises waiting for him. Like a stink bomb, or an ant colony, or a magical item that was bound to get him in trouble. 

He doesn’t find any of that in Max’s room though. There’s a sparse amount of clothing in the dresser, some boxed up toys in the closet, several of the Japanese comics Max was always into on the bookshelf, and under the bed, a box of items; family pictures, drawing, what looks to be a diary. Julian puts that box away quickly. 

Well. His search comes to an end, taking all of 15 minutes. At a loss, he lays back gingerly on the bed, wiggles into something resembling a comfortable position, and closes his eyes. It’s almost a joke, because Julian knows he’s not going to be able to sleep right now, or that night, or maybe ever again. But for now he lays there, eyes closed, and pretends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for if I do continue this fic: I haven't been a part of the MI fandom in a while and the last book I read was CoHF so details and specific plot points are going to heavily rely on my memory. Hopefully that won't matter much because this fic is mostly character-centric.   
> If you care one way or another about me continuing this, maybe leave a comment?


End file.
